Cinnabar Joe greeted Grimshaw and Bat at the horse corral: "Seen Tex?" he asked anxiously. Grimshaw nodded: "Yeh—we seen him."
"Did he—git Purdy?"
Grimshaw shook his head: "No—he didn't git him. He almost, but he didn't quite."
Without a word, Cinnabar turned, entered the corral, and stepped out a few moments later leading a saddled horse.
"Where you goin'?" asked Grimshaw.
"To Wolf River."
"Wolf River! What's goin' on in Wolf River that you're so hell bent to take in?"
Cinnabar hesitated just an instant, then he spoke: "You might as well know it as the rest of 'em. I'm goin' to give myself up, an' I want to beat Purdy to it. He's got somethin' on me—a hold-up that I was partly mixed up in, way back when I was a kid. I never got none of the money, an' I've be'n on the level since. I figgered I'd payed fer that long ago. But, if Purdy got away, he'll tip me off. It's goin' to be hard as hell on her." He nodded toward his wife, who stood at some distance talking earnestly with Old Bat.
Grimshaw leaned over and laid a hand on the man's shoulder: "Put up yer horse, boy," he said; "you've got a nice little outfit started here—you an' her. Stay right with it—an' stay on the level. Forgit anything that might of happened a long time ago. It's the things you do now, an' what yer goin' to do that counts. Tex didn't git Purdy—but they was five more of us there to back up his play. We was all of us more or less handy with our guns. An' between the whole of us—we managed to git him. Purdy's dead, Cinnabar—dead as Julius Cæsar, an' all his pals is dead—an' whatever he had on you died with him."
"There comes Tex, now!" cried Cinnabar, pointing to two riders who appeared outlined for a moment against the opposite valley rim, before beginning the descent of the slope. "He's ridin' McWhorter's blue roan. But who's that with him? Why—it's McWhorter's girl! But, what horse has she got? She busted out of here two or three hours ago ridin' her bay mare!"